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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25447831">the velvet boys</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralitte/pseuds/astralitte'>astralitte</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Persona 5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abusive/Neglectful Parents, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, also known as sad bois au, no beta we burn like goro on 10/25, rich boys/poor boy au</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:36:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,167</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25447831</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralitte/pseuds/astralitte</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Akechi Goro still remembered the first time he met Kurusu Akira. </p><p>It had been on a Sunday, which was oddly fitting because each week began on a Sunday and the significance of that had made Goro feel like it was a fated beginning of sorts. It was, in a way. Not that Goro believed in fate. Goro believed in hard work and carving his own path. Fate and destiny were indulgent nonsense that only rich people could afford to believe in, and Goro was not rich.</p><p>In fact, Goro and his family—which consisted of the ashes of his dead mother and his still alive father—were the opposite of rich. They lived in a rundown shack on the outskirts of Ushimachi, a small, quiet town where the wealthy sent their sons to Velvet Academy for the finest education sought in Japan.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>101</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Firstly, I am very sorry for all the angst that I'll be putting you guys through for this fic. Secondly, after both hearing the song “Dead Boys" by Sam Fender and also rereading The Raven Cycle by Maggie Stiefvater, this idea hit me like a truck. It's quite inspired by the latter. While I'm still working out the kinks, I have an idea for what I want to happen with the boys. </p><p>I'm not sure what people might think of this silly AU, and I think I'm being a bit ambitious for attempting to write a multi-chapter fic, but I'll do my best to update once or twice a month!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Akechi Goro still remembered the first time he met Kurusu Akira.</p><p>It had been on a Sunday, which was oddly fitting because each week began on a Sunday and the significance of that had made Goro feel like it was a fated beginning of sorts. It was, in a way. Not that Goro believed in fate. Goro believed in hard work and carving his own path. Fate and destiny were indulgent nonsense that only rich people could afford to believe in, and Goro was not rich.</p><p>In fact, Goro and his family—which consisted of the ashes of his dead mother and his still alive father—were the opposite of rich. They lived in a rundown shack on the outskirts of Ushimachi, a small, quiet town where the wealthy sent their sons to Velvet Academy for the finest education sought in Japan.</p><p>Goro hated Velvet Academy though. He hated the boys who went there. They were the same boys who drove past his shitty house in cars so fancy that they could buy fifty of Goro’s house without batting an eyelash. They were the very boys who carried themselves with so much arrogance that Goro wanted to punch the rich off their smug faces.</p><p>These Velvet boys would be nothing without their parents’ money. Goro knew that. After all, his own father had been a Velvet boy once.</p><p>The fact that Goro’s family no longer had money was why Goro had a part-time job during the weekends at the records store in the heart of Ushimachi. Goro both liked and disliked his job.</p><p>He liked his job because his boss, Muhen, did not take advantage of him and gave him a decent wage. He was even allowed to spend his working hours on his studies as long as there weren’t many customers and the store didn’t need minding.</p><p>Goro disliked his job because working at the store meant coming into contact with offensive, stuck-up Velvet boys. While it was rare for them to drop by the store, that didn’t change the fact that every encounter with these brats left a bad taste in his mouth. Goro always thought about quitting his job when he met these Velvet boys.</p><p>He knew that he was being stupid since it felt like the cons outweighed the pros. But Goro was sensible—he knew this because his mother had always called him a sensible boy. The money that he earned from his job at Jazz Jin was too good to pass up on and so he kept the job.</p><p>On that particular Sunday, Goro had just arrived at the store for his shift when he noticed that a messy-haired boy was standing in the store by himself.</p><p>The other storekeeper was nowhere to be seen, which was common, considering how much she liked to slack off and leave the store early. Luckily for Muhen, Ushimachi was not a town where people stole things. Regardless, Goro couldn’t understand why his boss kept that useless girl around.</p><p>Goro sighed to himself in the back of his mind. Before he could open his mouth to alert the customer of his presence, he heard a soft meow coming from the bag slung over the boy’s shoulder. A black cat’s head shoved its way out of the bag, its purr sounding like the revving of a motorcycle, and the boy shushed the cat, absent-mindedly scratching the cat behind the ear.</p><p>Then, the boy continued to rifle through the records until he stopped on something, and the teeniest smile bloomed on his lips. He pulled a record out of the tray and flipped it over in his hands, his eyes shining with awe.</p><p>Entranced, Goro took a step forward. He must have made a sound, because that secret smile disappeared and was replaced with a polite, clinical one as the boy turned to greet him.</p><p>“Hello,” the customer said softly, as if he was sharing a secret with Goro. “Do you know where the shopkeeper might be?”</p><p>It was the dialect that gave away the boy’s identity, really. Goro’s eyes instantly searched the boy, and although he wasn’t wearing his uniform, the vintage leather bomber jacket, the well-fitted skinny jeans, and the scuff-free loafers reeked of money. The customer must be a Velvet boy, Goro realised. It made him wrinkle his nose.</p><p>“I’m hoping to purchase this,” the boy continued to say after he was met without a reply, “but no one seems to be minding the store.” He paused briefly. “It wouldn’t be right for me to leave money at the counter.”</p><p><em>Was a Velvet boy allowed to be like this? </em>Goro wanted to ask. Instead, he lifted his eyes to the boy’s face. His breath caught.</p><p>There was something familiar about this boy, something that tugged at his heartstrings and made him long for that boy whom he had played with once as a child—not that he could still remember his face or his name. The memory seemed like a lifetime away anyway, and Goro chastised himself for even thinking about it.</p><p>“Umm,” the Velvet boy mumbled, ducking his head and tugging at a lock of hair such that his face was hidden behind his hand and thick-framed glasses. “You’re staring an awful lot.”</p><p>Goro startled. “Sorry,” he forced himself to say. “I, uh— I actually work here.”</p><p>“Oh,” the boy exclaimed. “Well, that’s a relief.”</p><p>“Is it?” Goro asked, folding his arms across his chest.</p><p>This Velvet boy’s words were ebbing at him in a worrisome manner. He could feel all the preconceptions that he had about Velvet boys being chipped away, despite every single interaction that he had had with Velvet boys, despite each nasty rich person whom he had come across.</p><p>But these preconceptions were important to Goro. He held onto them like a person might hold onto an injured bird, afraid to do it any damage. He knew that it was silly.</p><p>To an extent, he clung to these preconceptions because they felt like the only things that made him and his father family after his mother had died. To another extent, he couldn’t let go of them because it seemed to him like hating on the Velvet boys was the one thing that kept him safe from his father these days.</p><p>“How else would I be able to buy this?” the boy said, flapping the record carelessly.</p><p>Goro cringed. “You shouldn’t do that,” he warned. “You don’t want to warp the record.”</p><p>“Oh, oops.” The Velvet boy looked sheepish—<em>well, that’s a first, </em>Goro thought—and scratched his cheek. His cat purred and nudged its head against his shoulder. “Uh,” the boy started to say again. “Sorry about the cat.”</p><p>Something was tugging at Goro’s heart again. It was an unpleasant feeling that made him scratch his chest absent-mindedly. “It’s fine,” Goro replied, annoyed. “Just don’t get its fur everywhere.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t worry about that,” the boy said, but he said it with the confidence of someone who was obviously used to getting things his way. Somehow, it sounded so different from the boy who had just been fumbling for words not half a minute ago.</p><p>Goro shivered.</p><p>“Perhaps you need some time to get ready for your shift,” the Velvet boy said politely, and immediately, Goro felt like he was being chastised for something that wasn’t his fault.</p><p>A part of Goro wanted to scramble over to the counter and help the boy with the purchase so that he wouldn’t take up anymore of the boy’s time. The other part of him wanted to retaliate by walking back out of the store and telling Muhen that something urgent had come up at home.</p><p>“Just a minute,” Goro ended up saying. He left the boy by himself and went to the back of the store to drop his bag off and change into his uniform—a black button up with Jazz Jin’s logo over the chest and a pair of black slacks. Goro hated the slacks. They clung a little too tightly to his arse than he preferred, but he couldn’t afford a new pair.</p><p>When Goro came out of the backroom, the Velvet boy was at the cashier, leaning his back against it with both his elbows propped on the counter. He was typing away on his phone, smiling that same small, secret smile to himself. The record—one of Ella Fitzgerald’s, now that Goro had the chance to see what it was—sat on the counter. Goro couldn’t help but think of his dead mother.</p><p>“Is it just this?” Goro asked as he slipped behind the cashier.</p><p>Though the boy was quick to cover his being startled, Goro allowed himself to take pleasure in the light flush that spread across the boy’s face.</p><p>“Just this,” the Velvet boy repeated. He slid his wallet out from his back pocket and opened it carelessly in front of Goro. It was easy to see the prestigious credit cards and the small stack of cash in there.</p><p>These were both items that Goro had never had in his life. He felt embarrassed, staring at the boy’s wallet. He would have never dared to open his wallet so nonchalantly in front of anyone, not even a shopkeeper.</p><p>Again, he knew that he was being stupid, but the constant lack of money in his own wallet was shameful. There had been far too many times when he had to leave his items at the supermarket’s cashier just because he was a few dollars short. Far too many times when he had to go hungry in school because he had nothing to eat. He despised the pitying looks that he always received. They made him sick.</p><p>Oh, the things Goro would have done to be one of these worry-free Velvet boys.</p><p>“That’ll be 4,800 yen,” Goro said, with a false cheery smile. “Would you like it gift-wrapped?”</p><p>“No, thank you,” the boy told Goro. “I’ll pay by debit.” He held his credit card out between two fingers. It was a casual gesture that even an average person would do. Nevertheless, Goro still took offence in that.</p><p>“You can just tap your card there,” Goro said drily, pointing at the POS machine.</p><p>The Velvet boy, to the credit of his upbringing, just flashed Goro an award-winning grin—as fake as Goro’s smile, Goro could tell—and made the payment.</p><p>A vein at Goro’s temple twitched. “Would you like a receipt?”</p><p>“I’m good,” the boy said.</p><p><em>I’m glad one of us is, </em>Goro wanted to reply bitterly.</p><p>“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Goro replied instead.</p><p>The boy’s head tilted as he took the plastic bag from Goro. “Actually,” the boy said, “do you happen to know anything about the butterflies in this town?”</p><p>Taken aback, annoyance slipped into Goro’s features. “The butterflies?”</p><p>“The butterflies,” the boy said again, which made Goro realise how differently they pronounced the same word.</p><p>Goro felt embarrassed again. It was clear that the boy wasn’t making fun of his accent, but this one small action reminded Goro of the poor countryside boy that he knew he was. He wished that he could be this Velvet boy instead. That way, he would be able to think about idyllic things such as butterflies instead of his next paycheck. What a life that would be.</p><p>“I’m afraid not,” Goro said, trying to imitate the dialect that he usually heard on the radio. It was clumsy, and he could tell from the boy’s expression that the boy thought that it was clumsy too. Goro bit the inside of his cheek.</p><p>“Oh well,” the boy said, offering Goro a genuine grin. “Just wanted to try my luck. Anyway, thank you. Have a lovely day.”</p><p>Before Goro could think of a good reply, the boy had turned away and strode out the store. That was how that boy got to places, Goro guessed. By striding. He wasn’t like the other Velvet boys. He didn’t walk like they did.</p><p>“Thank you for your patronage,” Goro finally replied, but the door to the store was already swinging shut.</p><p>x</p><p>Eventually, Goro made the decision to get himself transferred to Velvet Academy the following school year. He couldn’t help it. That Velvet boy—Kurusu Akira, Goro now knew—haunted his mind. He kept thinking about how Kurusu was so different from the rest of the wealthy people that he had come across, about what Kurusu had that changed the boy into a seemingly better person.</p><p>Perhaps Goro had romanticised the encounter between Kurusu, who played the soft-spoken yet alluring Velvet boy, and himself, who played the poor awkward and incapable country boy. The memory made him angry. It made him jealous. Goro wished, more than anything, that he could be Kurusu.</p><p>It was what lead him to the decision to transfer to Velvet Academy, really.</p><p>He didn’t think that it was possible to at first because of how insanely high the school’s tuition fees were. But the fact that his grades were ranked in the ninety-eighth percentile somehow earned him a partial scholarship. It was still a shit ton that he had to pay, but it was worth it if that meant graduating from the prestigious Velvet Academy.</p><p>Both university and job offers would flood his mailbox. Goro was upset at himself that he hadn’t thought of this before.</p><p>As for the extra tuition fees that Goro had to pay—well, he could pick up odd jobs. Besides, he also had savings that he kept away from his father in hopes that he would move away one day. Since graduating from Velvet Academy would definitely mean being able to get out of this shitty town, it would be worth spending on the school. He’d be using these hard-earned savings on a brighter future.</p><p>There was another issue, however, that Goro tried not to think about. This problem started from the first time that his father had seen Goro’s new school uniform. On the bright side, his father thought that Goro was attending Velvet Academy on a full scholarship.</p><p>Goro was sure that he’ll be fine. It would only be for two years.</p><p>x</p><p>Attending Velvet Academy was pleasant enough. All things considered, Goro had expected worse.</p><p>His classmates had been nasty to him at first, openly making fun of his being poor, until they learnt that he could spar back with words far more eloquently than they could ever hope to achieve. Goro had himself to thank for this—he’d had plenty of run-ins with tasteful rich people that he knew what to expect from them.</p><p>As a result, Goro forced himself to train his country boy speech away before his classes started so that he would fit in more by talking like the other boys in the crisp, lilting Yamanote dialect that only came with age-old money. It benefitted him a lot better than he thought it would.</p><p>Sometimes, his teachers even forgot that his father was Masayoshi Shido and were nice to him. Goro considered that a win. But that was just sometimes. The teachers still looked down on him and his classmates were still a handful, so Goro still hated the people at Velvet Academy, even though he was one of them now.</p><p>On the downside—or maybe the upside, Goro couldn’t decide—Goro learnt that Kurusu Akira was the same age as him. They weren’t in the same class though, so Goro only knew about Kusuru in passing. It seemed like everyone in Velvet Academy knew Kurusu. They always greeted him and then got flustered around him. These were common occurrences. Goro was disgusted by them.</p><p>For Goro, the strange occurrence was Kurusu waving at him every time they walked past each other. He wasn’t sure if it was because Kurusu recognised him from their singular encounter at Jazz Jin or if it was because every Velvet boy seemed to know the penniless boy who had magically infiltrated their ranks.</p><p>Goro wanted to ask Kurusu, but he never had a chance to. He was always accompanied by two other boys: Sakamoto Ryuji and Kitagawa Yusuke.</p><p>Heads had the tendency to turn whenever Kurusu and his friends were around. The three boys had an astonishingly loud presence.</p><p>To the common folk, this was always easily attributed to Sakamoto, who was just plain brash and obnoxious with his bleached hair and pierced ears and his exceedingly loud mouth. It was unfortunate that money couldn’t buy him common sense. It could be, though, that Sakamoto chose to act that way.</p><p>To the wealthy folk, the obvious cause was Kurusu, who was the heir to Kurusu Industries, the wealthiest company in Japan. He was a born leader, so it was only natural, though people still often scrutinised him for hanging around the shamed Sakamoto son. Kurusu was either ignorant or indifferent about this. It was likely the latter. Boys with his kind of money seemed to pay no heed to the opinions of those under them.</p><p>To those who looked harder, the reason was definitely Kitagawa. He had a way of folding into himself such that his presence became smudgy, but even that action stood out because there was only so much the boy could hide when he was the sole survivor to a family of distinguished painters who had been butchered.</p><p>They had a loud presence, these three Velvet boys.</p><p>Because Goro was not in the same class as them, he was more than ecstatic to observe Kurusu from a distance. He hoped to figure out what made this particular Velvet boy stand out so much. He kept hearing Kurusu talk about butterflies and he wanted to know why the boy had such an unhealthy obsession with them.</p><p>It was good, Goro thought, that they weren’t in the same class. That meant that Goro could keep his biased memory tucked away, reflecting on it only when the days were rough. He didn’t have friends and he was way too old for Featherman. The memory was the only thing that kept him going.</p><p>It was better, Goro thought, that he didn’t get to know Kurusu as a real person. That meant that he would never have to explain or deal with his sickeningly complicated feelings toward the Velvet boy. That meant that he could keep staring at the boy like some love-struck fool, perhaps hoping that Kurusu would approach him one day.</p><p>It was best, Goro thought, that he could go on to graduate from Velvet Academy without Kurusu taking pity on the poor boy by talking to him. Anyway, it wasn’t as if Goro was stupid enough to think that a rich boy would want to be friends with him. There would be no benefit and so there was no chance.</p><p>As long as he stayed sensible and worked hard, Goro thought, his two years at Velvet Academy would go by without a hitch.</p><p>Little did Goro know, however, that he would be placed in the same class as Kurusu in his final year.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Bro, are you even listenin’?” snapped Ryuji.</p>
<p>Akira made it a point to turn his head so that he was facing Ryuji. As soon as he raised his eyebrows in reply and nodded his head slightly, Ryuji was happy to continue rambling in his one-sided conversation. Akira caught something along the lines of getting different classmates this year, but his thoughts were already starting to drift away again.</p>
<p>Behind them, Yusuke mumbled, “Ryuji, you barely even attend classes.”</p>
<p>Akira tried not to yawn, wishing that he could have miraculously slept in this morning. He couldn’t think of a day in the last two years when he had proper, uninterrupted sleep.</p>
<p>He blamed the blue butterfly in his dreams for his constant lack of sleep. Ever since he was beckoned to Ushimachi by it, the butterfly continued to plague his every thought. <em>Find me, </em>the butterfly demanded. <em>Find me and you’ll understand why you lived when you were supposed to die.</em></p>
<p>All those unfounded mornings startling awake, thinking that he had finally caught the blue butterfly in his cupped hands. All those tiresome afternoons trekking through the same forest in never-ending loops. All those restless nights delving into research about a butterfly that might not exist. Still, that blue butterfly refused to materialise, only appearing in Akira’s mind to taunt him.</p>
<p><em>Stop hiding from me and let me find you, </em>Akira wanted to scream.</p>
<p>He was tired. God, he was tired. Yet, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to stop searching for this elusive butterfly because he needed answers.</p>
<p>“Right, Akira?” Ryuji said, jabbing his elbow into Akira’s side.</p>
<p>Briefly, Akira winced. He looked up from the curry bun in his hands and gave Ryuji an apologetic half-smile. He could tell that Ryuji wasn’t angry, even if his friend sounded that way. Ryuji always sounded angry these days.</p>
<p>“He wasn’t paying attention,” Yusuke said helpfully.</p>
<p>“Again?” Ryuji huffed. “Seriously, man.” He took a bite out of his sandwich. As he chewed, he looked down at the fluff on his pants and then flicked it at Yusuke. Yusuke’s lips thinned.</p>
<p>Akira rolled his fringe between his fingers. “Could you repeat what you were saying?”</p>
<p>“I was sayin’ how unfair it is that you get to drive starting this weekend,” Ryuji said. “You’re takin’ your test after school on Friday, yeah?”</p>
<p>“Yep,” Akira answered. He was looking forward to it. Getting a driver’s license meant being able to cover more ground. It meant being able to finally, <em>finally </em>properly explore Ushimachi. There were only so many places that he could go on a bicycle, so many days that he could stay out when he had classes on weekdays.</p>
<p>There had been school holidays, except he was always called away from Ushimachi during the summers and it was too cold for butterflies during the winters. He felt restless—more so than usual—whenever he wasn’t in Ushimachi. It was one thing to be searching for something that didn’t want to be found, because at least he was doing something about it. It was another to be forced to stop his search, because he was helpless to do anything about it.</p>
<p>This year, especially with his new car, he was determined not to let his parents drag him home for the summer holidays.</p>
<p>“Yeeeeeeeee,” Ryuji said, drawn out. “That’s complete BS.”</p>
<p>“It’s not bullshit,” Akira sighed.</p>
<p>Ryuji scoffed in reply. After he took another bite of his sandwich and finished chewing, he said, “It <em>is</em> effin’ bullshit because you don’t have to wait till July to get your license.”</p>
<p>“You say that as if you weren’t taught how to drive when you were fifteen.”</p>
<p>“You’re right,” Ryuji said. He flashed Akira a toothy grin. “But I finally get to drive wherever the heck I want as soon as I get that license. I already got the car that I’m gonna be drivin’.”</p>
<p>“We live in a town,” Yusuke suddenly said.</p>
<p>Ryuji and Akira raised an eyebrow at each other before they turned to Yusuke and continued to raise their eyebrows at him. Yusuke picked at his own red bean bun, pinching off parts of it and letting them fall into the plastic that held the bread. It made it seem like he was slowly eating the bread. Both Akira and Ryuji weren’t fooled.</p>
<p>“You already drive wherever you want to,” Yusuke whispered. “Just not to school.”</p>
<p>Akira’s eyes narrowed. “Ryuji,” he warned.</p>
<p>“Effin’,” Ryuji said. He crushed the wrapper in his hand and threw it at Yusuke’s feet. It bounced away, offended. Ryuji slid off his seat and started to head towards the door.</p>
<p>“Ryuji,” Akira said again.</p>
<p>Ryuji stopped in his tracks, his shoulders tensed. “I won’t get caught,” he said without turning around. “I’m not that stupid.”</p>
<p>“You know that isn’t the point,” Akira sighed. He scrubbed a hand into his hair, bunching his fist at his nape. He looked at Ryuji, who was still standing at a distance, adamantly making an effort to not face him. Akira sighed again. “Where have you even been hiding your car?”</p>
<p>“In the garage that you never use,” Ryuji snorted, then he walked off.</p>
<p>Akira bent forward and rested his head between his knees. He took in a deep breath through his nose and breathed out through his mouth. Just one more year. He only had to make sure that Ryuji get through school without trouble for just one more year.</p>
<p>When Akira lifted his head, he noticed that Yusuke had finished picking at his red bean bun. “Did you even eat any of it?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Yusuke lied. He hid the bundle of squashed food in his hands, pretending that Akira wouldn’t notice. “Anyway, homeroom should be starting shortly. We should be going.” It was another lie. Homeroom wouldn’t start for another thirty minutes.</p>
<p><em>And make sure that Yusuke will be okay</em>, Akira mentally added as he stood up.</p>
<p>x</p>
<p>They made it to class before anyone else. Yusuke immediately padded to the back of the classroom and took the seat closest to the window. Ryuji stormed off after Yusuke, dropping his bag with a slam onto the table next to Yusuke’s, and Akira silently took residence in the one in front of Yusuke’s.</p>
<p>This was usual. It was how they functioned: Akira at the forefront, Ryuji ready to strike, and Yusuke protected. Akira couldn’t remember a time when they weren’t like that.</p>
<p>He turned back to start a conversation with his friends, but Yusuke was already starting a new drawing on his sketchpad and Ryuji was either sleeping or pretending to sleep. To pass some time, Akira pulled out his phone and scrolled through his feed and looked at the daily message from his fortune teller.</p>
<p>When the first of their classmates started to trickle in, Akira put his phone away and greeted them cordially. Since they were mostly familiar faces, most of them dropped by his seat to make light conversation with him, eager to ask about the latest innovations from his mother’s company. He answered them politely, winking cheekily whenever they tried to ask him about sensitive information.</p>
<p>Midway through a particularly boring conversation, the door to the classroom slid open and caught Akira’s attention.</p>
<p><em>It’s him, </em>Akira realised. <em>It’s Akechi Goro. </em>They had walked past each other so many times in the corridors. Once, Akira thought about saying something more than a ‘hello’, but his friendly smile to Akechi was returned with what seemed to be a glare of murderous intent, so he decided against it.</p>
<p>Akira watched as Akechi quickly slid the door shut and took one of the empty tables closest to the door. It was apparent to Akira that Akechi was trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible. It was too bad that, because he was the only poor student at Velvet Academy, he was prominent. Akira couldn’t help but wince in sympathy.</p>
<p>The classmate whom Akira was talking to followed his line of sight and said, “Oh, I guess he’s in our class this year.”</p>
<p>Akira hummed in response. He watched as Akechi flipped open his standard school bag and pull out a small brown pencil case. It looked like it could have been white once. Just then, the door opened again. When the students saw that it was a teacher, they scattered back to their seats.</p>
<p><em>Guess we’re getting Kawakami again this year,</em> Akira thought as the class, sans Ryuji, stood up and greeted her.</p>
<p>After Kawakami introduced herself, she pointedly glanced to where Ryuji was still resting his head on his arms. She muttered something under her breath and audibly sighed. “Right,” she said. “Time for introductions.” She pointed at the student sitting closest to the door. “You’re first. Give us your name and hobby.”</p>
<p>“Nishihara Koji,” the student said, sheepishly grinning. “I like basketball.”</p>
<p>When Nishihara sat back down, most heads swerved to spectate Akechi’s introduction. He rubbed his shoulder as he stood up, which occurred to Akira that he was feeling self-conscious. “I’m Akechi Goro,” he said. His dialect was different from the last time Akira spoke to him. It sounded more refined now, all essence of the country boy that Akechi was now gone. “I enjoy jazz music.” He sat, tucking himself into the table.</p>
<p>Akira tried to recall the first time he met Akechi, balancing a pen on his upper lip. Perhaps it had been too long ago—a year and a half, was it? He had only been in Ushimachi for six months then. He must have gone to Jazz Jin for a new record, but he remembered Akechi speaking differently then. There must have been something else about their meeting. It felt like there was more to Akechi. Like maybe they had met even before that.</p>
<p>It could be that he was just attracted to Akechi though, Akira realised about himself. Akechi seemed beautiful in a broken sort of way. An ex-girlfriend had once shouted at Akira that he collected broken things because he was broken himself. She left him after that, slamming the door shut in his face.</p>
<p>Akira shoved the memory aside.</p>
<p>“Sakamoto,” Kawakami said impatiently. It was not the first time that she was calling Ryuji’s name.</p>
<p>After a long pause, Ryuji raised his head just enough to shoot Kawakami a petulant look before he dropped his head between his arms again, going back to his pretend sleep. Kawakami looked like she was about to throw her marker at him.</p>
<p>Yusuke abruptly stood up and announced, “Kitagawa Yusuke. My passion lies in the fine arts.”</p>
<p>Kawakami took a step back in shock. “Uh,” she said when Yusuke continued to stand with his chin pinched between his thumb and finger. “Thank you, Kitagawa. You may sit.”</p>
<p><em>And thank fuck Yusuke was paying attention, </em>Akira sighed in the back of his mind. A new, unfinished thought started to form in his head, but it was his turn, so he raised from his seat and put on his brightest smile. “Pleased to make your acquaintance this year. I’m Kurusu Akira, and I suppose you can say that I have an interest in butterflies.”</p>
<p>A muffled scoff came from Ryuji’s desk. Akira knew what his friend would have said: “Interest? Bro, I think you mean an obsession.” Ryuji wouldn’t be wrong.</p>
<p>As Akira sank back down, he caught Akechi looking at him, an unreadable expression on his face. Akira held the gaze for a moment before he tugged his lips to the side, offering Akechi a half-smile. In response, the boy flushed angrily and snapped his attention back to the front of the class.</p>
<p>Once the last few students introduced themselves, Kawakami began to lecture about something that Akira didn’t care about. It was probably the standard: it was their final year at high school, which meant entrance exams, blah, blah, blah.</p>
<p>Instead, Akira continued to look at Goro. There was just something about him. Something… familiar<em>. </em>Akira felt his heart do a funny sort of flip.</p>
<p>Seeing Goro sitting there in his class in such close proximity, Akira felt like it was fated that Goro was meant to be there. He suddenly remembered the message that Chihaya, his fortune teller, had sent him. Discreetly, he took out his phone and checked the text message.</p>
<p><strong>Chihaya: </strong>Today, you will meet someone again that you’ve been wanting to see for a long time… The cards are now all in place… But be careful… Difficulties lie ahead… This is only the beginning…</p>
<p>The world quietened as Akira inhaled a breath and stopped. He read over the message again and yet again, then he looked at Akechi and his heart squeezed. He didn’t understand who she met by that something, but his eyes flicked over to Akechi. That didn’t make sense though. He barely knew Akechi.</p>
<p>Akira looked down at his phone and read the message one last time. He felt the hair on his arms, his ears, and the back of his neck prickling.</p>
<p>He could feel it in his bones. Something was changing.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Akira considered the first day of his last year at Velvet Academy a win for two reasons: one, Yusuke had gotten through the day with an acceptable degree of lucidity, and two, Ryuji had not skipped a single class. Granted, Ryuji had slept through every class, but he was at least there, and Akira had been trained to always count his blessings.</p><p><em>Only two hundred and nine school days left,</em> Akira thought.</p><p>As soon as Akira unlocked the door to their house, Ryuji nudged past him and kicked off his shoes, flinging his school bag on the floor. He flopped onto the couch and crossed his arms behind his head. He yawned. Akira never understood how Ryuji could sleep the day away and still want to sleep even more.</p><p>Yusuke drifted up the stairs while Akira locked the door. There was a soft purr just before Akira felt his cat nuzzling his calf. Akira looked down, grinning at the warm welcome home.</p><p>“Hello, Mona,” Akira said, bending down to rub the back of his hand against his cat’s cheek. “How was your day?”</p><p>Mona meowed cheerfully and bumped his head against Akira once more before bounding up the stairs after Yusuke. Probably to be fed whatever Yusuke didn’t finish during his lunch, which Akira tried very hard not to think about.</p><p>“What should we get for dinner?” Ryuji twisted on the couch to make room for Akira, who nudged Ryuji’s feet off the glass coffee table.</p><p>“Food, preferably,” Akira chose to reply.</p><p>“Hah,” said Ryuji. He put his feet back up on the table again and Akira nudged them off again. Ryuji added, “Ramen?”</p><p>“I don’t want to cycle back to town,” Akira said.</p><p>This was another reason to look forward to getting his license on Friday. Cycling to town took a good thirty to forty minutes because Yusuke had to ride with him. Having a car would mean being able to get there in just ten minutes. It would mean not having to get up so damned early just to ferry himself and Yusuke to school.</p><p>That was his own fault though, Akira was aware. He could have chosen to stay in the dorms like most of the Velvet boys or gotten a chauffeur to drive him and his friends around like the rest of the Velvet boys. Akira chose freedom over having someone who reported his every move to his parents.</p><p>“How about delivery?” Akira suggested. “That way, we can still get ramen.”</p><p>Ryuji looked so disgusted that Akira couldn’t stop the laughter that spilled past his lips. In retaliation, Ryuji put his feet back onto the coffee table. Akira laughed a little bit more.</p><p>“Eff that,” Ryuji said, referring to the idea of getting ramen that wasn’t freshly cooked. “And eff you.”</p><p>“Seriously though.” Akira shoved Ryuji’s feet off the table this time. “Delivery?”</p><p>Ryuji chewed on the side of his thumb as he glared at Akira. “Fine.” He looked towards the stairs. “We should get something that’ll make him eat.”</p><p>“Yeah,” said Akira. “Maybe udon?”</p><p>“Sounds good,” Ryuji replied, which made Akira wonder for the nth time why delivered udon was okay but not delivered ramen. Ryuji took out his phone and opened FoodTeddy, and Akira leaned over to peer at the options. Not that there were many. Ushimachi wasn’t exactly massive. They always ended up eating the same things.</p><p>Akira thought about their empty fridge. They should probably restock on food soon. Then, at least he could cook and there would be less fuss. Cooking after a long day felt tiring though. Sometimes, he wished that they lived closer to a food place that they liked.</p><p>“I wish Leblanc did delivery,” said Akira.</p><p>“Don’t let the old man hear you sayin’ that,” Ryuji snorted.</p><p>Not bothering to reply, Akira rested his head on the couch. From the corner of his eyes, he looked as Ryuji went through the process of ordering their food. He appreciated that Ryuji never needed to ask them what they wanted to eat and still always managed to order what they wanted.</p><p>There was comfort in a friendship like that that Akira was grateful for, even though his parents could never understand it. Ryuji was often made fun of for not having the brains to understand things easily, but what Akira’s parents did not realise was that once Ryuji understood something, he really did. In fact, Akira was sure that Ryuji might be the person who knew him best.</p><p><em>Maybe I can find a way to get my parents to understand this too, </em>Akira thought. It was a vain thought, but one that Akira hoped would work out nonetheless.</p><p>“You were staring at Akechi the entire day,” Yusuke said, standing directly behind Akira.</p><p>Ryuji jumped in his seat. “Jesus,” Ryuji swore, swatting an arm towards Yusuke. “We effin’ talked about you making noises when you walk.”</p><p>“I made a noise,” Yusuke protested.</p><p>“Did you hear him, bro?”</p><p>Akira shook his head, which made Yusuke’s frown deepen. When his eyes started to cloud over, Akira quickly said, “Also, no. I was not staring at Akechi.”</p><p>The fog in Yusuke’s eyes vanished, his eyes lighting up. He folded his arms and lifted his chin. A playful smile stretched across his face. “The entire day, Akira. I was sitting behind you. Do not even try to pretend that it would have escaped my notice.”</p><p>“What, really?” Ryuji said. “Bro.” He scrunched his face at Akira. “Why are ya even botherin’ with that nobody?”</p><p>“It must be love,” Yusuke answered sagely.</p><p>At that, Akira yanked the cushion that Ryuji was resting on and tossed in Yusuke’s direction. It missed Yusuke, but the action still made Akira feel better. “No,” Akira argued. “There’s just something about him—”</p><p>Yusuke started to open his mouth again, but Ryuji was faster to cut in. “Seriously, why give a shit about him? It’s not like he has anything to offer.”</p><p>“Has something happened between you two?” Akira asked, curious.</p><p>Ryuji shot Akira a look. “What? No, man.”</p><p>Yusuke walked around and squeezed himself in the middle of his friends. Ryuji grumbled and made space for him. Akira leaned forward to shoot a look back at Ryuji.</p><p>“What’s your problem with him then?” Akira said.</p><p>In response, Ryuji brought his wrist to his lips and chewed on the leather bands there. When it was clear that Ryuji wasn’t going to give an actual response, Akira shifted his gaze to Yusuke, who was watching him with interest.</p><p>“So, you admit that you were staring at him,” said Yusuke.</p><p>Mona jumped onto Akira’s lap and rubbed its face against Akira’s cheek. Scratching Mona’s chin indulgently, Akira furrowed his brows. “I guess I was.” He thought about the feeling that had struck him at Jazz Jin, about how he felt like he was home the moment he saw Akechi. It made no sense at all.</p><p>Akira let out a short, awkward laugh. “There’s just something about him, you know?”</p><p>“Obviously not,” Ryuji growled through his teeth and leather bands. It came out sounding like there was jealously hidden behind his words. And knowing Ryuji, Akira wouldn’t be surprised if there was.</p><p>Yusuke mused, “How fascinating. Care to describe what you mean?”</p><p>When Mona walked over to nap in Yusuke’s lap, Akira pulled a leg up and rested his chin on his knee. He thought about it, but everything that came to his mind was either in fragments or lingered just out of his reach. He let out a frustrated sigh.</p><p>“Bro,” Ryuji spat. “You don’t even know him.”</p><p>“He could very well say the same to you, Ryuji,” Yusuke answered. “You know nothing about Akechi either.”</p><p>Ryuji looked chastened, but Akira knew that his friend wasn’t sorry. It wasn’t like Akira blamed Ryuji either. He knew how protective his friend could get over both him and Yusuke. Sometimes, it felt like too much and Akira wondered if it was wrong to wish that his friend would be less defensive about them just because the outside world had hurt each of them before.</p><p>Cruelly, Akira thought about saying to Ryuji what the Chinese philosopher Zhuang Zi had once said: <em>A frog in a well cannot conceive of the ocean.</em></p><p>But he didn’t, because Ryuji wasn’t inexperienced in life nor had he a limited view when it came to matters of the world. Besides, it would be unfair to say that to Ryuji just because of a boy whom they both barely even knew. Ryuji just… He just had tunnel vision when it came to his friends.</p><p><em>I’m such an awful person, </em>Akira thought.</p><p>“Well,” Yusuke said. “Let us know if you ever figure it out.”</p><p>Akira nodded, pulling his phone out of his pocket. When he checked the time, it occurred to him that he hadn’t shown them the text that Chihaya had sent him. A thought struck him. “I think,” Akira said, testing the idea on his tongue, “that Akechi might be connected to the blue butterfly.”</p><p>Ryuji sat up straight. Yusuke sat up straighter.</p><p>There was something charged about their postures. Looking at them, Akira was reminded that while the blue butterfly might feel like it was <em>his</em>, his two friends had been searching for it with him ever since their first year at Velvet Academy.</p><p>“Hang on,” Akira said, jabbing at his phone to bring up Chihaya’s message. He flashed it to Ryuji and Yusuke, who both squinted at the phone. “Look.”</p><p>“Y’know,” Ryuji leered. “If anything, that just makes Akechi more suspicious.”</p><p>Yusuke rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Of course. It is when the fortune teller’s words that benefits your viewpoint that you choose to believe her.”</p><p>Ryuji looked down in mock surprise at his hand before showing his middle finger to Yusuke.</p><p>Slapping away Ryuji’s hand, Akira said to Yusuke, “I can’t think of anyone else that might fit the text.” He poked the message bubble on his phone repeatedly, as if it might suddenly reveal more insight. When it didn’t work after five more tries, he placed his phone on the coffee table.</p><p>“Could it be in reference someone else?” Yusuke asked.</p><p>Akira stood up and scrubbed a hand through his hair, tugging his fingers through a knot. He was suddenly thankful that his parents couldn’t see the state of his hair. They would be appalled. Back in the city where he came from, he—well, his parents, more specifically—made it a point to keep his unruly locks neat.</p><p><em>We cannot possibly have our heir looking like a scoundrel, </em>his parents had said. <em>Imagine what that might to do to our company’s reputation.</em></p><p>From time to time, Akira thought about reminding his parents that the public wouldn’t care that much—seeing as to how most of their business came from overseas and how the public was more interested in the technology that they came up with—and that he was still just a teenager, for god’s sake.</p><p>He suspected that his reasons alone weren’t enough to stop his parents from licking their hands and arranging his hair.</p><p>“Doesn’t seem like it,” Ryuji answered for Akira, sounding unhappy.</p><p>Yusuke turned over to Ryuji and gave him a look that Akira couldn’t catch. When Yusuke turned back, Akira furrowed his brows and asked, “Can you guys think of anyone else?”</p><p>There was a moment of silence before Yusuke said, “No. Not at all.”</p><p>“Eff it,” Ryuji said, rolling his eyes. He stood up and started for the stairs. “If you becoming friends with that pretty peasant means finding the blue butterfly, then just effin’ do it.”</p><p>Akira thought about the implications of talking to Akechi, of getting to know the boy. It seemed like an impossible task. As far as he knew, Akechi spent most of his time at school by himself, skeptical of those who tried to get to know him, cordial yet intimidating to those who tried to bully him. Akira pursed his lips until he heard the door to Ryuji’s room slam shut.</p><p>“He called Akechi pretty,” Yusuke pointed out, his eyes twinkling with amusement.</p><p>“Oh,” Akira realised, “you’re right.”</p><p>Then, they exchanged a look and promptly burst into giggles.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first sign, Goro reflected belatedly, was the sound of his bicycle going <em>tick, tick, tick, tick, tick.</em></p>
<p>It wasn’t that he didn’t notice it, because he did. It was more that he had hoped that by ignoring his bicycle’s ticking—<em>hah</em>—timebomb, the problem would go away. Though judging from the cards that had been dealt to him in his life so far, Goro had a gut feeling that today might not be kind to him either.</p>
<p>He despised being so keenly aware that he did not have the money to replace his dying bicycle’s parts.</p>
<p>Knowing that there was nothing to be done about that, Goro double-checked the bicycle in hopes of salvaging it. But when he found yet another problem that he had to ignore, Goro just sighed and braved the trip to the supermarket for some well-needed groceries.</p>
<p>As he cycled, he did the math in his head for what he needed to get for the week: instant noodles that he could eat for dinner, apples that he could eat for lunch, and a new bottle of detergent to wash his and his father’s clothes. Then, he indulged himself in the things that he wanted: a new toothbrush, proper toiletries that didn’t smell like antiseptic lemon, enough money to buy the things he wanted, a new home, a new life, a new—</p>
<p><em>Well, </em>he interrupted his own line of thought, <em>at least I have never had to worry about Father’s meals.</em></p>
<p>Focusing on the breeze that raced through his hair instead, Goro pretended that he couldn’t hear anything out of the ordinary as he cycled a little faster. He enjoyed cycling. Sometimes, he loved it so much that his heart felt like it was bursting with affection.</p>
<p>Cycling made him feel like he was a king, on top of the world. He sped and sped, feeling as if nothing could stop him. If freedom existed, this was surely what it must feel like. And if it existed and Goro could feel this way when he was trapped in Ushimachi, then he would surely be able to attain freedom from this town one day. Just one more year to go. Hopefully.</p>
<p>He tried not to think about growing up only to be trapped in the whims of the society.</p>
<p>The ride to the supermarket took a thirty minutes. Goro locked his bicycle outside the store and made a quick round inside, grabbing only the items from his list. He made it a point not to look for things that he didn’t need, but if his eyes lingered a little longer on meat and sweets, well, at least anyone who saw him would have just thought that he was contemplating instead of longing.</p>
<p>Having learnt his lesson from his countless embarrassing trips to the supermarket, Goro made sure to re-tally everything that he had put his basket. When he was certain that the amount totalled to what he had in his wallet, he paid for his items and headed out.</p>
<p>His bicycle did not like it when he unlocked it and balanced the shopping bags on its handles. It certainly did not like it when Goro pushed up its kickstand, judging from the way it screeched.</p>
<p>Goro did not like that his bicycle was being difficult either, but they would both have to compromise.</p>
<p>After ten minutes, however, Goro’s bicycle decided that it did not, in fact, want to compromise. It communicated this to Goro with a <em>snap, </em>and then Goro heard the clinking of his bicycle’s chain against the concrete.</p>
<p>“Fuck,” Goro swore. He slowed down as quickly as he could and then glared down at his bicycle in betrayal when he stopped.</p>
<p>“Fuck,” he swore again, grinding his palms against his eyes.</p>
<p>Goro climbed off the bicycle and carefully placed it on the ground with his shopping bags. Bunching his own hair in a tight fist, he looked back down the road where the chain had fallen. He tried not to swear again when he thought about how much it would cost to get a new one (at least 2,000 yen) or even a new bicycle (at least 9,000 yen). Either way, that was money that he desperately needed for the next semester.</p>
<p>When Goro walked over and picked up the bicycle’s chain, he knew that his suspicions of needing a new one was right. It had broken in a way that there was no way to salvage it, not even if he had the proper tools for it.</p>
<p>Frustrated, he dragged himself back to his bicycle and knelt down next to it, staring at the damages that it had incurred. Judging by its state, it made more sense to just get a new one.</p>
<p>“Fuck,” Goro sighed.</p>
<p>Another bicycle skidded to a stop next to him, and a deep, silky voice said, “Are you alright there?”</p>
<p>Even before Goro turned around, he knew that the voice belonged to one of the Velvet boys. The people who grew up in Ushimachi could never speak in a manner that brimmed with slippery money.</p>
<p><em>Great,</em> Goro thought in annoyance. <em>Just when my day couldn’t get any worse.</em></p>
<p>“It’s no worries,” Goro said, putting on his false dialect and a fake smile. “Just a little hitch. That’s all.”</p>
<p>The Velvet boy suddenly crouched down next to Goro, peering at the bicycle. With a jolt, Goro realised that the Velvet boy was Kurusu. This irritated him further; he didn’t want Kurusu to see him in such a state and neither did he want Kurusu’s pity.</p>
<p>“That doesn’t look okay,” Kurusu stated, dipping his chin towards the chain in Goro’s hand. “I would suggest removing the fouled links and putting the chain back together, but...”</p>
<p>Goro blinked in surprise.</p>
<p>Kurusu inspected the bicycle, and Goro felt a childish urge to hide it from view. He didn’t want Kurusu to see the obvious: the worn-out handles and the torn seat. He also hoped that Kurusu wouldn’t notice the pedals that were barely there or the brakes that did not work properly.</p>
<p>“You really love this bicycle, huh?” was all Kurusu said.</p>
<p>“I guess so,” Goro found himself replying, still stunned. It seemed impossible that any Velvet boy could have an inkling of how to go about repairing a bicycle when they had the money to easily replace anything that they needed. Hell, his father was no longer rich yet he still tried to act as if they had the cash to spare for anything that was even slightly damaged in their house.</p>
<p>“I hate to be the one telling you this,” Kurusu pointed out without malice, “but it might be more cost-efficient to get a new bicycle at this point.”</p>
<p>It could be that Kurusu was the exception, Goro realised. He felt his perception about Kurusu shift in that moment, placing the messy-haired boy in a far more glorified yet down-to-earth light. It gave Goro a bittersweet sort of hope, as if becoming a decent person with money was suddenly an achievable dream.</p>
<p>“May I ask if it’s sentimental?” Kurusu asked.</p>
<p>It was an odd question, which made Goro look over with a raised eyebrow. “Not particularly,” he said. While it was the first bicycle that he had bought with his own money, he wasn’t exactly fond of it. It had been the cheapest second-hand bicycle that he could find when he was in his last year of middle school. Any fondness that he had for it had to be because it was his only form of escapism.</p>
<p>Kurusu seemed to be lost in thought for a moment. Discreetly, Goro took the opportunity to observe the boy next to him.</p>
<p>Despite the fading evening sun, Kurusu was still dressed in his school uniform, though his blazer was nowhere to be seen. His hair was more dishevelled than usual—windswept, it seemed. Mud was smudged across one of his cheeks and his glasses for some reason, but it might be inappropriate to ask why. Now that Goro noticed this, he saw that Kurusu’s hands had flecks of mud on them too.</p>
<p>Goro’s heart started to beat just a little bit faster.</p>
<p>When Kurusu angled his head to meet Goro’s stare, Goro willed himself to hold the gaze without looking away or blushing. Then, Kurusu offered a tiny, helpless smile.</p>
<p>“Your bicycle’s certainly seen better days,” Kurusu remarked. “How about you take mine?”</p>
<p>As soon as a scowl marred Goro’s features and he opened his mouth to say something spiteful that he would definitely regret, Kurusu stuck out placating hands. Goro closed his mouth.</p>
<p>“Wait, before you get the wrong idea,” he said, “I’m getting my driver license tomorrow and it would be easier for me to drive about.” He paused, giving Goro a meaningful look. “My bicycle has treated me well, and it would be a shame for her to go unused, especially after all the adventures we’ve had together.”</p>
<p>Without replying, Goro’s eyes slid over to the bicycle parked behind Akira. The red bicycle was a stark contrast to Goro’s white battered one. Though it looked relatively new, Goro could see that it was because its parts had been recently replaced. There were even dents on the main frame.</p>
<p>“Adventures?” Goro questioned out of curiosity.</p>
<p>Kurusu smiled the same secret smile that Goro remembered from Jazz Jin. “I’ve been exploring the woods around Ushimachi,” Kurusu explained. “I’m looking for something… important to me.”</p>
<p>“Is it a butterfly?” Goro said, recalling both their interaction from back then and Kurusu’s introduction to their class earlier this week.</p>
<p>“Exactly that,” Kurusu replied. His grin was now a vicious slice across his face.</p>
<p>“I don’t understand the obsession,” Goro confessed, which only seemed to make Kurusu strum with energy. “Haven’t you been searching for it for more than a year and a half now?”</p>
<p>There was a soft, barely audible intake of air. “Oh,” Kurusu said in realisation, “you remember.”</p>
<p>At a loss for words, Goro found himself blinking at Kurusu. He had imagined that their encounter had amounted to an insignificant moment in Kurusu’s life. Why would it be anything else? Goro would have just been another store clerk in Kurusu’s everyday life, another faceless being in the sea of other unimportant people in a world where only the wealthy thrived.</p>
<p>“Anyway,” Kurusu said, changing the topic, “please take the bicycle and put her to good use for me.”</p>
<p>Goro frowned. “‘Her’?”</p>
<p>Kurusu scratched his cheek sheepishly. To Goro, it was an action that did not seem befitting of the heir to Kurusu Industries. “Her name’s Papillio.”</p>
<p>“Isn’t that Latin for ‘butterfly’?” Goro tried not to let out a laugh.</p>
<p>“As expected of one of the top students in Velvet Academy,” Kurusu said reverently, as if he wasn’t the number one student in the school. This was another reason why Kurusu made Goro seethe. In his previous year at Velvet Academy, no matter how hard he had studied, he always ended up in second place while Kurusu reigned in the first.</p>
<p>Goro didn’t bother to hide his scoff this time. “Thanks,” he said cordially, crossing his arms, “but I don’t have the money for your bicycle.”</p>
<p>Kurusu’s eyes flickered over to Goro’s exposed skin. When his lips thinned, Goro noticed that his sleeves had been pulled back in a way that revealed green and yellow bruises. Goro quickly stood up from his squatting position and straightened his clothes. His father had always liked it when he could not wear his summer uniform.</p>
<p>“I’m not looking to sell the bicycle,” Kurusu told Goro, lifting his head to look at Goro. He stood up and stretched before he continued with, “I just want someone to put her to good use since I won’t need her anymore.”</p>
<p>Staring at the ground, Goro didn’t say anything. He really needed a working bicycle, now that his own one had gone to hell, but it wasn’t right to accept another person’s charity, especially when it came from a Velvet b—<em>no,</em> Goro corrected himself—a Velvet boy who actually had money. Goro tried to tug his sleeves down some more, even though Kurusu definitely could no longer see his bruises.</p>
<p>“You would be doing me a favour,” Kurusu assured.</p>
<p><em>Maybe I could accept it, </em>Goro thought, though he wasn’t sure if he should. He realised that this might be the first time a stranger was being kind to him in his life. It made it all the more difficult to give a verbal affirmation because he didn’t want to feel like he owed Kurusu something.</p>
<p>Above them, the streetlights came on with a loud fizzing noise. Because of that, Goro noticed that the sun was barely a sliver in the horizon. He really needed to get back home so that he could get started on his homework and then get some sleep so that he could get up for a five-hour shift at Big Bang Burger before his classes started.</p>
<p>“You know what,” Kurusu suddenly said. “I’m just going to leave Papillio here. You can take her if you want. Otherwise, you can put her in the woods—” he nodded towards the trees just ahead of them “—and I’ll come back to check tomorrow. See you in school.”</p>
<p>Then, without waiting for Goro’s reply, Kurusu started to stride away.</p>
<p>For a few minutes, Goro just stared after Kurusu, his jaw slack. Goro knew that rich kids were snotty and difficult, but Kurusu was infuriating<em>. </em>Goro felt like punching—no, he felt like shaking—no, he felt like doing <em>something</em> to Kurusu. He didn’t even know what. He just felt like something was boiling in the pits of his stomach that made him want to possibly wring Kurusu’s neck.</p>
<p>So, he started to run after Kurusu and shout, “Wait! Hang on!”</p>
<p>Kurusu paused and tilted his head around quizzically. “Is everything okay?”</p>
<p>When Goro caught up to Kurusu, he said, “How are you going to get back home? Are you just going to walk?”</p>
<p>“I guess so,” Kurusu answered nonchalantly. “I didn’t really think about it.”</p>
<p>Was Kurusu secretly stupid? Goro grounded out a frustrated sigh. “If I take Papillio,” he said, “at least let me cycle you home. I highly doubt you live anywhere close by.”</p>
<p>A wonderful sound spilled from the depths of Kurusu’s throat.</p>
<p>At first, Goro thought that Kurusu was mocking him because it seemed unimaginable that a rich boy would ever need someone to cycle them around when they could easily call a car. Then, when Kurusu wiped a stray tear from his eye, Goro knew that Kurusu had really meant it earlier about how he hadn’t thought of how he would get back home. Still, Goro didn’t see what there was to laugh about.</p>
<p>“Ah,” Kurusu gasped, once he had sobered. “You’re right. Would it be any trouble?”</p>
<p>Goro thought about his homework, his bed, and the impeding shift that were waiting for him. “Not at all,” he volunteered. “It’s the least I could do.”</p>
<p>A grin split Kurusu’s face, and he turned around, walking back towards where their bicycles laid. He helped Goro to move the irredeemable bicycle closer to the woods, mentioning that he would come back for it once he got his car that weekend and that it would be a lot easier than getting Goro to dispose it. Goro, strangely worn out, decided to just nod his head in agreement.</p>
<p>Once they transferred Goro’s shopping bags to Papillio, Kurusu looked at the bicycle fondly. “You know,” he said to Goro. “I’ve never been on her passenger seat before.”</p>
<p>“I’m cycling you home,” Goro insisted. “Not the other way round.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m not complaining.” Kurusu put a hand on the bicycle. He offered it to Goro, who stared down at it hesitantly before he gripped one of its handles. It felt like a perfect fit in his hand, its rubber not so tough that it would give him callouses after long hours of use.</p>
<p>By the time Goro looked back up, Kurusu had already, quite happily, seated himself on the passenger seat. A grin was still colouring his face, and Goro was surprised to learn that one of Kurusu’s pearly teeth was just slightly out of place. He tucked this knowledge away in the depths of his mind, ashamed about how it made him feel.</p>
<p>Without saying a word, Goro quickly climbed onto the bicycle so that Kurusu wouldn’t see his flushed face.</p>
<p>But then, as soon as Goro was secured in his seat and ready to start cycling, Kurusu leaned forward and placed his chin on Goro’s shoulder. “So,” he said, his voice playful, “care to learn more about butterflies?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The next chapter will be Ryuji-centric! Please look forward to it ♥</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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